Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, or any of its affiliated companies. The characters in this work are all loosely based on those created by Pokemon and its companies, and this story will never by no means be used to make monetary profit or gain.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Walk into my Parlour:
Erika, aka The Nature-Loving Princess, dubbed so for her grass type team and kindly manners. She received her training license at the late age of 21 but won four badges in the following five years and at age 27 applied to her hometown's gym for a gym-aide position. She inherited the gym at age 30 and has remained Celadon City Leader for the last ten years. Her main team consists of: Victreebel. Vileplume. Exeggutor. Breloom. Tangrowth. Cradily. Her signature pokemon: Ayahuasca the Tangrowth. Her starter: Peyote the Oddish.
The cradily's the real problem, I thought, further scrolling revealing the beast's name as Sativa. It covers the common fire, poison, bug, and flying weaknesses, while its own weak points ice and steel are handled by the breloom, Datura. But otherwise, this doesn't seem as impossible as Misty or Surge...
Relieved, I sighed and tried refraining my body from unnecessary shifting. It had taken me hours to stalk the wild xatu back to her nest - the new pokedex's tracking app completely sucked, and the casing wasn't shielded against psionic residue so the map function always bugged out – and even more time had passed since I had camped hidden under some bushes surrounding the tall tree with nothing to do but fiddle on my dex and plan for Celadon Gym. Any moment now the xatu would once again fly off to hunt, leaving the nest defenseless and the baby natu ripe for taking, but until then, it would be best to stay undetected.
At least there were no worries of a wild attack here. My dex couldn't exactly pinpoint my location, but I knew I wasn't that far away from route K08 leading to Saffron, and while the swamps here still technically counted part as the indominable wild of Lavender, so close to the manmade roads I was sure no pack would dare act out, yet alone a horde.
Of course, sticking this close to the safe route had its shortcomings. I wanted both a teleporter and a shadower, and the truly strong psychic and dark monsters dwelt deep in the wild; this close to man, a trainer would have to settle for the weaklings. A natu was certainly no gardevoir or alakazam, but it wasn't as if I was aiming to use one for battle, this capture was meant to ease long distance travelling, nothing more.
Finally, it's leaving.
With a caw, the xatu took flight and I emerged from my hiding spot. The tree where the beast had made nest only supported branches up high, but the problem was easily solved once I released a healed Callidora. Twin vines thick enough for me to hold surrounded the trunk following an intertwining path, and after a quick climb, I was confronted with a trio of newly hatched natu, each about the size of my hand, chirping hungrily.
A very faint presence reached out to my mind, but the chicklings were too young and weak to break my mental defenses. I picked out the plumpest of the birds - female, I noticed - and her siblings revolted in angry chirpings, protests I easily ignored. After grabbing her from the nest and sliding down the tree, I held the reward of this venture in my palm: A frightened bird covered in green feathers except on the beautifully colored bright wings.
I took out my pocketknife and crudely clipped them.
Doing my best to ignore the pained shrieks, I recalled Callidora and walked back to the Aggronator. This crippling was not done needlessly; effectively flightless now, growing up, the pokemon's body would instinctively focus on mental development rather than a physical one, increasing the range of its teleporting distance and number of biological units it could carry with greatly. The bird was still too young to perform such journeys, the capability of bending space-time came only with age, but her powerful mind would still register each location she traveled with me to memory, places to be pulled out from her "databank" when she matured and was ready for teleporting.
That's the Red I like to see, The Rival cheered as I placed my newest acquisition in a cage adjusted to the front of the Aggronator. Its sides were made of transparent plastic, so the bird would always have sight of our whereabouts. Thinking ahead, making future investments… I reckon a shadower is next?
"Yes," I answered, getting up on my bike. "We'll catch a dark type while still in the Lavender wilds – I can't believe I used to have one and sold it for a rental suit."
That was a distracted Red, Reddy boy, pay that one no mind. What's next after a dark type?
"Well, we'll follow route K08 further. Today we might go more off-path than the following days, though. We still need some essential B-team members for flying, surfing, and sparring, and outside of Lavender fields' influence, we'll see a more variety of monsters other than ghosts, psychics, and darks. Eventually we'll reach the Underground and in about ten days Celadon. There, I expect a somewhat one-week long delay between our registration at the gym and the official match the aides will schedule me in for, which will theoretically be right around the time our leftover cash will dwindle."
And what's the plan for Erika?
"Her gym rules state a fourth badge challenge is a double battle where the trainer is allowed up to four mons against her two. This gives us too much of an advantage – compared to Surge, Erika's match conditions are so ridiculously easy they should be banned. No wonder almost every trainer's first combat-based badge is from Celadon, I just checked the rules, and there it's a six vs one single battle in favor of the challenger – she should learn from Brock." I snorted, recalling Diamondback and the maximum number of two allowed to face against the monstrous rock-snake. "Like I said, Celadon, easiest gym in Indigo."
"Granted, her team build is really good," I admitted, "and so is her ace Ayahuasca. Not Roulette or Ira level good, but good enough to wipe my team if I don't come up with some sort of strategy – luckily, she has bent her own rules so much, it shouldn't be hard to come up with a four-pokemon based double battle strat."
And do we have such a plan in mind?
"It's not entirely there," I confessed. "But to say I don't have a general idea…"
I thought of Callidora and how she was currently my best battler; though Arsenal was overall stronger, it wasn't a guarantee he would follow my orders, and he already faced a type mismatch against Erika's team. The problem with Callidora however was that there was nothing she could bring to the battle Erika's team could not counter and do better, I wasn't underestimating Erika enough to claim in a battle of grass types I could win.
Which only left Pikachu and Dante. Pikachu, whom against Erika's team held a defensive advantage, and Dante, who lacked the firepower to break through these gym-level beasts anyway – a hopeless confrontation.
But if battles were to be won solely by monsters' strength, then what need would there be of trainers?
"Yeah," I muttered, the strategy a pikachu and charmeleon could utilize coming to mind. It wouldn't be as uncommon as a trick room or pledge combo, but if I played my cards right, it could be just as surprising to Erika as my parafusion strategy had been against Brock, and once the duo wounded Erika enough, a switch to the stronger Arsenal and Callidora could land a finishing blow. "Yeah, we'll need some training, but not too much, and I can see this working."
Then all that's left is…
"Yes," I agreed. "All that's left is releasing Pikachu."
))(())((
Last time, his entrapment had lasted the entirety of my month-long imprisonment, and when freed, he had spent hours comatose on Bill's front yard.
This one had been for less than a few days.
Needless to say, he did not emerge comatose.
"Callidora," I ordered calmly.
Long ago, he was her better. His instincts, speed, and long-distance coverage were in a different class, and even up close, his larger size bought an unfair advantage. His mutated genetics had bred a fighter out of a meek species, and the experiences he had in facing stronger foes far outshone hers. On top of it all, his base talent was supported by an unyielding warrior's heart, a belief of superiority backed by a stubborn courage, he had never met a foe he hadn't vanquished eventually.
If anything, he was too much like me. Both of us always the underdog, after tasting victory after victory, we had grown fat and lazy on it, thought it a default standard, a rule holding reality together, and by believing so, we had forgotten the climb we had made to reach the point we were now; a delusion I had broken free of at a terrible price.
He, however, I was sure had not. The wartortle's attack had dealt a crippling blow, and any other monster would be humbled by the experience, learn and grow from it, but I knew the current Pikachu would not feel so. I knew he would justify his defeat, defend it. I knew in his mind, the loss was everyone's fault but his: Had the wartortle not ambushed us he would have no doubt won a fair fight, had the assaulter not prepared berries beforehand his thunder would without question break through that mighty shell, had his useless teammates not been there and restricted his mobility he would indisputably be the victor; simply because he was worthy of the title.
I knew all these because I had been where he stood now, and I knew, once refreshed and healed, Pikachu would be driven for revenge, filled with a pointless, self-destructive need to kill. Like the scars James had left on my body, the sensation of Arsenal's teeth ripping through his flesh would never leave him and poison his thoughts, incepting him with the idea that the only way to feel whole again would be through spilled blood.
As I said, I knew the feeling - and also the cure.
Once, he had been her better.
Not anymore.
Aggressive from his entrapment, Pikachu lashed out in thunder and lightning. Almost blind he was from fury, the grass under his feet withered and dried under the heat of crackling electricity, but his clouded mind did not shroud the sight of Callidora ready for a confrontation, and suddenly a target was set. Long had he loathed her, he had only tolerated her presence for my sake, but currently even that bond was forsaken: In the madness of rage, gone was the efficient killer, the trained starter, and only the wild beast stood in his stead.
For the split of a second, my heart wavered. Fear briefly touched my soul as I reverted to my childhood, to my first encounter with this monster, and how he had me scarred me for life.
But then she marched, and the fright was replaced with confidence. I remembered I had long outgrown that foolish phase of my life; the truth was, we both had, both him and me. Our one in a million talents, our unyielding will, our fighting skills had all been forged and steeled into the unopposable storm they were today by sweat and blood, by experience and hard-work. He and I, we had been connected more than any other member of my team, for the years we had spent for this challenge had been equal even when we were unaware of our destiny, the time I had spent as a fledgling in training school to become the greatest had been equal to that he had spent in a lab being readied as a graduate's starter. Both of us were born great through the luck of genetics, but to become perfect we had worked to the bone; a reminder I often repeated to myself since Paul's departure.
And it was my very intention to remind Pikachu so – even if I had to beat the idea into him.
The first chorus of lightning hit a thick shield of extended vines, yet they still seemed to injure because Callidora shrieked in pain and pulled back. If only in a healthier state of mind, then Pikachu would recognize the same trick she had pulled against Trainer Atana's sandslash, but delirious and fixated on victory, he took the bait and drove close, his fur cackling bright as static energy built around. Equipped with a thunderous coat fit for Raikou the Beast itself, the hindlegs bent and the foreclaws dug deep – a mere second later he was up in the air, ready to tear and rip by claw and teeth.
He landed on a thick cloud of dust, a yellow powder scattered in the air.
She could have used the sleeping powder and ended it, The Rival commented, but she chose to paralyze him instead. The distaste's mutual, and she's being needlessly cruel – good thing she's not old enough to secrete her poison through spores yet.
"Cruel is good," I said coldly. "Cruel he will understand…"
Sneezing, Pikachu crawled out of the yellow cloud, but now my ivysaur was on the assault. A multitude of vines cracked in the air, and on pure instinct Pikachu avoided the first two, but on the third and fourth, his legs buckled – the paralyzed nerves were showing their effect. Thorns cut across, and in contact with his electric fur their tips sizzled and burned; but still, they were the one to draw first blood, and if possible, that seemed to double the rage of Pikachu. Howling in pain and fury, electricity crackled along his slender body, and Callidora wisely retracted the four extended vines from the impending high-voltage death Pikachu offered.
Yet, only four she had retracted, and she had done some growing up from her fight against Roulette all those months ago: Her limit now stood at six.
Entwined, the already thick on their lonesome vines formed one massive strand; what this battering ram lacked in speed and accuracy, it made up with sheer force. The power-whip hit him from the side, its thickness a shield against the current voltage he was at, and even my weaker than the beasts' sight caught Pikachu's eyeballs bulging from pain, yes, but also from surprise at how he had failed to both notice and dodge the massive attack; but Callidora's masterful performance was not done. Flung in the air, Pikachu too late noticed Callidora had aimed his landing, and suddenly leech seeds erupted, landing on his back, they fed on the emitted energy and grew their small vines, fully ensnaring him, limiting his already through paralysis restricted mobility and draining his strength further and further until the legs disobeyed the mind commanding them and Pikachu collapsed, his hateful eyes focused on the enemy.
And then the enemy moved.
So far, Callidora had refrained from closing in and had kept the battle perfectly at the mid-range distance she excelled at. She had played Pikachu's love for close-combat perfectly, taunted him and taken away the speed advantage he held over her, and finally damaged him enough once she had guaranteed her slower hits would land. Utilizing every strategy I had taught her to the fullest, her already very sharp mind had calculated the steps forward to victory carefully, and now she was receiving her reward: Her shadow cast long on the fallen foe, as it would always be once the trained confronted the wild fairly.
And then, finally the glimmer I sought in Pikachu's eyes arrived as Callidora opened her venom-dripping jaw and jolted forwards – the spark of maddened recognition. For the first time in this battle, Pikachu now truly saw Callidora, saw she had grown experienced while he had remained stale, saw in size they were no longer compatible as the ivysaur even without her tall bud which exceeded my height was bulkier and larger, and saw the outcome of this clash had already been determined through structured strategy before the first blows were exchanged.
So naturally - and I did not blame him for this: I too had been in his place - he fought back. The flash in his fur grew to a blinding level; I knew what he was aiming for, it was his only play left. Similar to another life-or-death situation when Arsenal had almost snapped him in half, he would once again discharge everything, hoping the amount of energy would be enough to exceed the upper limit the parasitic seeds could absorb, breaking him free, and then still have enough left over to kill the yet uninjured and rested Callidora.
It was futile and hopeless. It would never work and even if he went through the process without harm, recollecting himself from a total drainage would cost too much time, a luxury I no longer tolerated.
This is when you interfere, Red, The Rival said quietly.
I stepped in between the advancing Callidora and burning bright Pikachu. Behind me, I heard the dissatisfied growl of my ivysaur – she had truly enjoyed beating up on my starter – but I ignored her and focused my attention on Pikachu instead.
"Remember this?" I pulled my sleeve, revealing the Lichtenberg figure. "Remember its importance?" I asked, referring to the conversation we had in the motel room in Viridian City.
"You should. I told you that night. I told you why I was glad it was you who was my starter and not an ekans or something else." The fur retained its brightness as I spoke, but at least the crackling noise had stopped. Heartened, I continued.
"I told you I was glad it was you when I also explained why I would be dissatisfied with any other pikachu. I remember telling you explicitly that your species was weak and frail, not a fit for an aspiring champion." A smile formed on my face when I heard the half-threatening, half-teasing growl, so similar it was to the one from back then. "Of course, then, you weren't half the size you were – could we ever imagine you would grow into the oversized freak you are today? I think not, but I digress…"
"I told you I was glad it was you that night because if even a member of a weak species like yourself could do this," I gestured my forever scarred arm forwards, "this permanent damage, then my goal, my aim was truly too dangerous for mortal men, and on this path, I would not be allowed the slightest misstep, the smallest distraction. If my foolishness had caused even a small pikachu to hurt me this much, then a lack of concentration against any threat greater would surely get me killed, and I was glad you were to be my partner, because you would forever remind me of the cost."
Frowning, I reached into my bag and dropped Paul's shell I had carried all the way from Lavender.
"I failed." I admitted. "I forgot. I got sidetracked, and the cost came and asked its due. I was lucky it did not demand me instead. But I made this a second reminder. I came back." I knelt in front of him and extended my right arm a careful distance from his fur. "I'm asking the same from you. You were almost killed by Arsenal. Today, Callidora could do the same. They both won, because like me, you too forgot."
I paused, this part would be critical. "Our excellence, it came from the effort we put in. Without it, we were only great, and on our path, that is never enough. So, come back," I pleaded. "Trust in me again. Train with me again. And I promise, at the very least, you'll get another, better shot at Callidora."
And to all this, to my – in my opinion – very moving speech, he responded in a fashion so him: He snorted.
A comfortable warmness spread to my body when the calmed down Pikachu sniffed at my scar – a familiar sight not seen for so long, its simplicity alone assured my belief I was, we were, finally, after a very long time, back and on the correct path. My heart elevated in joy; after all, while Callidora followed and Dante obeyed, it was only with Pikachu I never felt desynchronized, I never had to explain myself. It was him who never missed the rhythm to our dance, him who reacted as passionately as I did to all, and now, he was, we both were, finally ourselves again.
"Yes," My voice gradually gained strength and turned into laughter as I rubbed his back. "Pokemon Trainer Red is back – and so is Pikachu."
))(())((
"What the- Woah, watch it!"
The warning came barely in time – I steered the Aggronator with all my might at the expense of losing balance and fell off-route on the soft grass. No harm was done, but the natu perched in front tweaked in annoyance from her plastic cage.
Pikachu, spared the accident because he traveled on foot, curiously sniffed at the bone spikes protruding from the ground, a trap completely encircling the line of caravans which crowded the Underground's entrance. Great beasts were anchored up front the carriages, thick chains running from their wide, flat heads to the pulleys, the peaceful bastiodon herd lay lazily and feasted on the mouthful of hay their caretakers shoveled in front of them. Never before had I seen so many tamed pokemon at once, and never had I seen fossil pokemon regulated to the mundane duty of transportation either.
"Hey, you okay?"
The one who offered me a hand up was a burly, rough looking man, I would place his age at the late twenties. His belt shined with added pokeballs – a trainer, I presumed, and the large feline following him strengthened my assumption. The royal pokemon shook its dominant, fire-red mane as he approached his master, eyes curiously fixed first upon myself, then my poor natu. A hungry yawn revealed the sharp teeth equipped, and the tiny bird pokemon chirped in panic.
"No harm done," I muttered and pulled myself up. "Would have appreciated a sooner warning, but no harm done."
The trainer apologetically chuckled. "Sorry, it's just we thought ourselves the only travelers from east – not the busiest road, Lavender to Saffron."
"I too thought the same thing. Which makes me ask," I tilted my head towards the convoy blocking the Underground's entrance. "What's all this?"
"Oh! Yeah, sorry. The name's Trainer King," He gave an embarrassed grin. "I picked it when I was young and stupid, and also after my starter was assigned, so there's the story of that dumbass name."
"And now he's old but still stupid, so the name's still a dumbass one. Trainer Lunar." A second trainer dropped in on the conversation and introduced herself, carefully jumping over the bone trench. She looked the same age as King, and behind her rolled a particularly curious looking pokemon. The body was spherical, but not as smooth as a voltorb: The outer surface was covered by a rough shell. A pair of eyes quickly gave a small peek between the two halves of the shell before the gap closed shut again.
I didn't introduce myself back, and they didn't seem to notice as they continued with their explanation. "They're carrying a fresh harvest of berries from Fuchsia," Lunar pointed back at the convoy. "And we were hired to keep guard all the way until Cerulean – the smell of berries in tons has attracted all kinds of hell."
"That's… quite the journey." I glanced back at the bastiodon. "Why didn't your client use the teleporting system instead?"
"Beats me." It was King this time who answered as he shrugged his shoulders. "Rumor has it something's been off with the city-psychics for a while now, goods supposed to be delivered go up missing and other shit. There's this whole theory going on that things are so fucked up even legit porting services like Viridian Travels accidentally sent some tourists right on top of Mt. Mortar instead of the designated Pewter – some vacation that must've been!"
Lunar joined his laughter. "And because we're carrying some serious cargo, our client accepted Silph Transportation's offer for a ride." She nodded again towards the bastiodon.
"Silph Transportation?" I asked, surprised.
"You haven't heard? Old man Silph's been branching out since the S.S. Anne." King's voice lost its cheerful tone and gained a respectful somber, the S.S. Anne had truly been a national tragedy. "They say he's found some new vigor in age – stocks are up, up, up! And with the recent crisis in the space-time field, Silph Co. was the first to offer some old-school, safer methods of transportation. They say he's made some serious money from this – and good for him! No father should have suffered what he did," King finished.
"Good for him," Ivy agreed. "And us! I'm telling you, this bug in the city-porters has seriously opened some new opportunities for trainers – escort prices are sky-high! We're rolling in cash. You got badges kid, or you a rookie?"
Apparently, despite Pikachu at my side, this duo did not connect my identity to the famous three-badger Trainer Red, or they weren't really that up to date with all the newbies – in fairness, it wasn't like I too knew every veteran, only the potential rivals.
"Three," I answered.
"Well, Silph asks for a minimum six, so he's a no-go for you, but there are other, smaller businesses," King tried politely reassuring me. "I'm sure you can make some good dough."
"Thanks, but I think I'll aim for more badges than settle for the small fish," I answered. "One last thing though – why are you using the Underground? Travelling through Saffron City would be shorter, wouldn't it?"
Lunar snorted. "An added request from the client – they're paranoid about the two snorlax near Saffron. It's also why we set these traps at every break." She gestured towards the bone spikes her forretress had laid.
"They're right to be afraid," King argued. "Can you imagine a snorlax catching the scent of all those berries we're carrying? Don't know about you, but I don't want to be the trainer who got between a snorlax and its meal, not for all the money in Indigo. The underground path is safer, and besides, I've never been down there – would be nice to see something that survived Agatha's Fall."
"I have," I said. "And you might be disappointed. It's all rats and pretty much nothing else – watch out for the pikachu, rattata, and sandshrew. I reckon they'll want a bite as well."
"Rats we can handle – no offence," Lunar added, smiling at Pikachu. "Snorlax, another thing. Though I don't think they'll be an issue, they say Elite Bruno's been tracking them and has driven them further west. He'll eventually catch and put an end to these monsters surely," She nodded believingly.
"I guess…" I sighed. "Well, you've both been very helpful, but I need to get going – any chance of that happening?"
"Sorry, kid," King looked ashamed. "Big Donna – she's the matriarch of the herd – just collapsed dead tired front the entrance. It usually takes her a few hours to get back up, but you want to go and wake her, be my guess."
I looked over King's shoulder at the humongous beasts once again.
A few hours loss is no big deal, The Rival assured me. These things will happen – let's make the most of it and draw up a training regimen for Erika. There's also these new recruits you have which need some taming.
I gently patted the four new pokeballs hanging to my right. The first was a blinded, beaten half to death sneasel lying on the route just as I had almost been out of Lavender's influence; most likely the runt of a litter and left to die. The second was a gluttonous ninjask lured away from its hive by Callidora's scent, and the third a playfully curious vigoroth which had watched my bike from the tree tops and had eventually come down attracted by the turning wheels. The final mon was a starly I had caught in a similar fashion to the natu.
I was quite happy with these catches; the sneasel, like the natu, would be of extreme value in the future once he learned how to travel through the shadows, the starly would grow into a strong flyer, and the other two would be great for sparring, especially for speed and strength-based exercises.
They're waiting on an answer, Red, The Rival interrupted my thoughts.
"No, it's okay," I gave the trainers my widest smile. "I can wait."
))(())((
Every city in Indigo suffered a reputation. Good or bad, opinions would often vary, though there did exist one common consensus.
Celadon was the fucking worst.
The problem had carried on for a thousand of years, to today from the times before Leonal Oak, before the unification. Back then, most citizens didn't get the chance to live a long, tranquil life; if it weren't because of wild attacks, then it would be because the Water Priests had demanded a life-sacrifice, or because Fuchsia and Saffron had entered another of their endless wars, or because the Vermilion Pirates had landed to vandalize and enslave.
So, what exactly made the Kingdom of Celadon distinguishably the worst among all states, none of them an image of peace of prosperity? What exactly put Celadon's people at the bottom of the barrel, even below the ruthless savages of Vermilion?
Easy answer. It was because while every other kingdom harbored scum, Celadon was the only one that profited out of scum.
Prostitution, gambling, slave trading, smuggling… Every kingdom had banned at least one of these within their walls, but not Celadon; there, so long as it made money, everything was legal. There often existed trade agreements between kingdoms that disallowed stolen goods to be capitalized on within borders, so where did the Vermilion Pirates sail to trade their loot? Celadon. Where did the Fuchsian Khan buy his bedchamber slaves? Celadon. Where did smugglers export valuable Saffronian steel and then retrieve their sum in gold? Celadon. For a price, anything - and anyone - could be bought in old Celadon.
Even the way they had joined Leonal's union had been slimy. Vermilion had been conquered through overwhelming force, Fuchsia had finally fallen after a good twenty years of war, and the Saffronians had only agreed to this alliance once their royal princess had been wedded to Co-Al, First of Leonal's Four, and later the second Champion of the unified new country after Leonal's departure. Meanwhile, Cerulean had seemed to join willingly, before the events which had led to the Drowning of the Water Priests had happened; and the honorable people of Pewter had only joined after Leonal Oak and his army of trainers had saved the kingdom from a wild horde attack. Every one of these kingdoms had in their own way showed some backbone to the Conqueror Oak before eventually bowing… except Celadon.
They had agreed to join immediately without any bloodshed at all, had even offered gold - if only Leonal Oak would allow their merchants to keep their trade rights.
Some say Leonal was too exhausted to think over the deal that had been offered by the Celadonians during the seventh year of the Fuchsian War, some say he was too drunk at the moment. In either case, so long as the Celadonians would pay their taxes, Leonal Oak had accepted their terms, and not once had Celadon City missed or come short on its tribute; in exchange receiving a guaranteed life for its brothels and slave-fairs, even when everywhere else in the state these had been punishable by death.
And today, while a true ban on slavery had later been declared nationally a good two hundred years after Leonal, Celadon City was still the only city in Indigo where gambling and prostitution were legal – and also where a good many illegal goods, like drugs and unlicensed pokeballs, were secretly prepared and distributed to the rest of the nation from. Crime rate was the highest in the country, the police force the least effective, and long was it a tradition that the appointed leaders gave no two damns about their own city.
A tradition Erika seems to uphold, I thought, sweeping my gaze at the filthy streets while I made my way to Celadon City Gym.
Frankly, despite the silent, depressing atmosphere of the Celadonians' nightly regrets hanging in the morning air – which no doubt would be replaced by evening with the thrill-seeking, hopeless enthusiasm of addicts drawn to the sex and money the city's famous neon ads offered – I felt plenty good myself. The travel underground had been far easier than last time when I was preparing my team to face Surge simply because I hadn't needed to release and train all members of my team simultaneously; and as a result, I hadn't dealt with any infighting.
Weeeeeell, except that one time… The Rival said.
I scowled. What he was referring to was when I had released Arsenal for training and Pikachu had been present. Arsenal's ambush was still fresh in Pikachu's mind, and he had jumped without warning. It had been a struggle to separate the two; though Arsenal was overall the strongest monster I had, his conductible water-type body was too vulnerable without any supporting items like wacan berries, making the match an even one. If I hadn't put them both to sleep with Callidora's help, I was sure the conflict would end fatally.
That being said, I didn't believe Callidora was comfortable with Arsenal's presence either. She too remembered the assault which had endangered us all, and though she wasn't openly hostile towards him – their cooperation in the tower had grown some mutual respect – I had caught her growling if Arsenal came too close.
Arsenal for his part seemed to ignore the rest of the team and followed my orders and training directions without any protest. Trainer Lotus trained him good, but not perfect, or they would've won against Blaine – look for his shortcomings, The Rival had said, and surprisingly, I had indeed found some. Her bio had already stated that Officer Danielle was an expert of close-combat, and her mastery showed in Arsenal's skills, but I hadn't noticed at what expense before – then again, I hadn't ever had the chance to focus my attention on Arsenal for long. Arsenal's flaw was in his elemental prowess, aside from great control over his aqua-jetting, he had no training in any water-based distance-covering attacks; and with that revelation, it all made sense in my head why he hadn't shot any water-pulses underwater back in Lavender.
And so, the ninjask I had caught was put to use. The evenings underground had been spent with Callidora who still suffered an aiming problem and had a reluctance to use her razor-leaves and Arsenal trying to shoot at the agile ninja pokemon. I had thought Arsenal would object to this simple level of training and would cause problems, but no, as far as I could tell, he was still honoring our deal – I had tracked down Jessie and James, earning his trust I would commit to our bargain that we would see the rockets dead together, and so he followed. I didn't know how long this loyalty would last, I had caught him throwing some stern gazes my way time to time, as if asking when we would stop wasting time and continue our pursuit of vengeance, but so far, he showed nothing too concerning.
We'll eventually tell him we've dropped the rocket hunt, The Rival had slyly suggested, but let's wait until we're done with Erika for that – we might need him for the match, who knows!
I had taken his advice and kept quiet on the subject, instead focusing on preparing Pikachu and Dante for the main match. While Callidora and Arsenal tolerated each other during the evening trainings, these two were more or less at sync at their own trainings during the mornings. I had imagined the first time releasing my charmeleon would be awkward, seeing as the last time was when I had overworked him to the point of collapse, but no, Dante had such a horrid, drug-fueled past of abuse that he didn't even recognize when he had been mistreated: He had emerged the same too-loyal-for-his-own-good self from his pokeball, making me feel somewhat more disgusted by myself but also slightly relieved. Their training had gone better, the only slight difficulty we had encountered was for my tactic to work, it had to be Dante to fill the role of close-combater and Pikachu the supporter, a direct conflict with these pokemon's natural inclinations.
But nevertheless, the nine days spent underground had been enough to overcome these instincts, and I walked into the gym feeling confident of myself. Pikachu and Dante had perfected their combo attack countless times against the poor wild vigoroth, a monster naturally faster than the breloom-cradily duo I was sure Erika would send against me, and if this tactic worked against the vigoroth, then it would definitely work against Erika's monsters.
About time, The Rival cheerfully intruded my thoughts. We're really low on resources – feeding nine mouths ain't easy. Let's fucking rob this gym, Re-
His voice was caught short by the tropical air assaulting my senses all at once.
Firstly, it was hot. Far hotter and humid than it ought to be indoors, by the time I had walked to the receptionist I was already dripping wet with sweat. There was also the heavy smell of multiple fragrances mixed making it difficult to breath; papaya and honeysuckle I could recognize, but the others required the nose of a botanist to differentiate. Pikachu didn't even try as he took one sniff within the gym and turned his back immediately to wait outside, the heavy scent a burden to his sensitive nose.
Lastly, there was also the receptionist.
She was… well, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her well-tanned skin shone under the gym's artificial lights, putting a special emphasis on her hair gracefully let down her shoulders and further augmenting the exotic aura surrounding her, but her most prominent feature were the eyes: A shade of never seen before blue, I guessed they had to be fake and she was wearing contacts but carried the suspicion her real colors were actually much more captivating, that these contacts were a mask to shield from unwanted attention.
"Good afternoon, trainer," She purred – I suspected she was quite aware of the effect she left on men. "How can I help?"
"Match. Gym match." I stammered, only now realizing I had been holding my breath since I had laid eyes on her. One heavy gulp of air cleared my head quickly – too quickly, I noticed, suspiciously glancing at the burning incense on the counter.
I reckon certain pheromones are distilled in this gym, The Rival muttered. Aphrodisiac substances to mess with trainers' minds before the match, and what's burning there suppresses these urges so Mrs. Sexy here doesn't get affected as well. Dirty trick. Keep yourself close to that incense, Red.
"By the sea-beast and waves, Pokemon Trainer Red!" The receptionist's tone held the exact right amount of excitement at the sight of my trainer's license, a perfect mixture of flirtatious intent and genuine impressment – had I not been warned by The Rival, even my stoic self would have fallen for her right there and then.
Can't wait till Blue comes here: This is the one gym he'll have trouble with. The sudden thought almost made me smile, but I was here on business and wouldn't dare show weakness. "When's the soonest you can book a match?" I asked, neither commenting on nor confirming her remark.
"For a trainer as yourself," Her eyes finally left me and fell on the dexscreen hidden behind the counter. "I'm sure Lady Erika wouldn't mind me delaying some of her challengers…"
"Appreciated," I nodded. It seemed my estimation of one week was false and the challenge would be much sooner, an even better outcome than my predictions.
Which was why I was certain I had misheard when she told me she would fit me a match five months from now.
"Excuse me?" I asked, aghast.
"The Lady's gym is blooming with visitors; the tides have been kind lately." She sought calming my increasing temper. "Every day we are blessed with new faces, challengers and trainers, they all-"
"What trainers?" I roared. "What challengers? The gym is empty!"
It was not my intention for my voice to carry on as an echo in the lobby, but the effect strengthened my argument and angered me to the point I began believing a conspiracy was afoot.
"Is this a league play?" I asked, suddenly paranoid. "Have the gyms in Indigo received orders to block my growth? Has my fast pace disturbed Lance and his dragons so much he would afoot to such lows?"
"I assure you, Trainer Red, there is no game," and as she spoke, it was as if a distant bell had rung, but the sweet tune was quickly scattered by her later words, "here. You are free to try your chances-"
Again, that noise? What is it? I wasn't given time to think for she continued with her useless excuses.
"-at any other gym and see for yourself. Celadon City Gym is truly overwhelmed, and if you wish not to wait for the Lady Erika, then I would recommend Saffron City Gym, only a few days' worth journey to the east." She finished, never looking up from her screen. "I'm sure they will be able to provide you with a sooner challenge."
I frowned. "If your words are true, and I have my doubts, then there must be some other reason for Leader Erika delaying me, because not for one second do I believe this disgrace of a gym in this accursed city is as busy as the likes of Goldenrod. And I know where Saffron lies – I have my reasons to challenge this gym, here and now."
"In that case, Trainer Red, your now will only be available in five months." She smiled, infuriating me to a level I had never experienced – here I was, my plans and timetable about to be in shambles, and the cause, the lowly secretary, had the gall to smile.
"I could sue," I threatened. "I have enough renown that my complaints would open an investigation, and the media would wonder why Celadon City Gym forces false time blockades on its challengers."
"And once the investigations would be completed, the only falseness revealed would be your accusations. My words are true, Trainer Red, this gym is indeed booked for many months, but even if they weren't," She blinked slowly, "the trouble you would go through seems hardly worth it when you can receive the fourth badge challenge we offer here just as easily from Saffron, unless…"
"Perhaps, you lack the funds for travel?" And again, a bell rang silently, annoyingly, as she finally lifted her eyes from the screen and fixed their mystifying colors on me. "It is no shame for a freelance trainer, one young and fast to rise especially, to find themselves have spent more than earned."
My anger forced me to ignore the ringing at her word "spent", and The Rival took over instinctively; though courteous he was not, and his manner echoed that of which when we had confronted the beast.
"Excuse me?" I gave a cruel, cold laughter. "A Celadonian lecturing on money? Ha! An incompetent lackey of Erika the Loser, Erika the Badge-giver, Erika the Lightweight, compares this back-alley gym with Sabrina's Saffron? Ha! Just as easily, she says," I mockingly imitated the receptionist's words, taunting her. "Cinnabar would be swallowed whole by Lugia before the day Leader Sabrina would be just as easily defeated as your pitiful leader, Erika a Rookie's-First-Timer!"
An anger clouded her face, The Rival had succeeded in some reaction from her. "Do not take the name in vain!" She gritted her teeth.
"Or what?" I sneered. "She will finally come out her hiding hole and do battle? Good! That's what I ask! Are more names needed for that outcome? How about 'coward'? Erika the Coward! I finally see why she avoids a match; many have beaten her, but none have had her humiliated, none, like I would!"
"Louder words will not aid you, Trainer Red." The receptionist shook her head. "This gym's program will not change on your whims."
Thunder roared as I slammed my hands on the counter, a slight fear capturing her expression as Pikachu blasted the gym doors wide open and blitzed his way next to me. He jumped up the counter, knocking the incense aside, and crouched with his lightning shaped tail erect, his growls seeming more lion than mouse; his fury, my fury, the proof of our hearts tied.
"I will ask one last time," I threatened, both my hands wide open and still on the counter; and Pikachu's fur crackled with loaded charge. "Book me a match within the week – now."
She held her silence, but it was her gaze that disturbed me as her face's features softened with the initial fear passing; her gaze long and shallow, vain, her eyes squinted at their edges, it was not fit an expression for one being held hostage, and I recognized what her eyes offered, and it was not of which I was accustomed to.
Pity. A cruel pity the superior offered the lesser, akin to one an ariados would offer to the butterfree caught in its web; each flap of wings pulling the strands tighter and tighter, each escape attempt sealing its fate closer and closer, and yet blind to the approaching end, any living creature would show pity to the desperate struggles of a victim, and while the ariados would not be exempt from that category, it would not show mercy to its prey, for it too had its own agenda to follow.
And the thought drove me mad – here was not the false ego of The Champion under siege, but my rightful claim; rightful for I had not owned it, but worked for it, not grasped, but planned, and not walked blind, but studied. I had followed the steps The Rival had drawn to the summit, had followed the code of trainers old and won my monsters' allegiance, had finally dismissed The Champion's delusion of mastery over destiny and instead embraced The Rival's approach of slowly, methodically working for each small step I took in sight of my goal; not owning, but through will and time conquering destiny, as champions did.
Yet here stood the smallest of obstacles I ever faced, unaware of her insignificance on the path I had chosen, but still facing me as if she knew a hidden ill fate awaiting me and offered only her pity as compensation.
I was, The Rival was, cunning and calculating, difficult to stir compared to The Champion, but she had managed. And the growls of Pikachu grew proportional to my fury, and the flash of his fur lit to a brightness only comparable to lightn-
"Enough."
Hope rose within me at the voice of challenge radiating from behind: Had I caused a disturbance enough that Erika herself had come to investigate? But no, I turned to realize it was not the leader herself but more of her lackeys that had entered the scene, two women: Two gym-aides.
"Trainer Red, we have to ask you to leave or concede to the gym's terms for a challenge."
Two pokeballs were thrown to emphasize the threat. From the taller, more athletic aide with cropped hair's hand emerged a beast similar to Pikachu, except this one was covered in white fur, larger, and had longer ears. The twin claws on each hand also distinguished this monster from my starter, adding a wilder appearance, but still, his threat level was dwarfed by the menacing aura the second beast emitted: A bat capable of abducting a grown man up high to the skies; the dark wings folded behind its back sides added an illusion of increased mass to its already formidable shape. The ears dominating its face of vampiric features twitched my direction, and the monster's jaw dropped, revealing a set of fangs as sharp as the claws of the monster to its side.
The cat-ferret and sound-wave pokemon.
"Trainer Red…" The noivern's master warned; she was a woman of short stature yet her broad shoulders revealed she was no stranger to exercise. I paid her no mind however and continued my step towards them, Pikachu on my side, his fur still wildly cackling. I walked, walked, and walked until I was so up close to them I could count the hairs on the zangoose's fur, notice how the trainers' fists were clenched and eyes were worried, caught a single bead of sweat dripping from the taller trainer's forehead, and understood though they held capable beasts, these were not battlers, and with that knowledge I quickened my pace and… kept walking until I passed the duo and made way to the doors.
The audible sound of a relieved sigh did not miss my attention as I chose to exit the gym.
"The only reason I'm not taking you both down," I declared before leaving, "is because, at the very least, you've successfully convinced me of Erika's embarrassingly passive presence in this supposed house of battles. Had I been certain our tussling would draw the Nature-Loving Princess out, be sure," I threatened. "Be sure, you would have regretted drawing on Pokemon Trainer Red."
Great. We showed them. The Rival commented once we took our step out, and though his voice sounded pleased, there was a strain in it, the hints of a collected and unresolved anger. But now… Now what, Red?
I sighed and confessed. "I don't know. I'll figure something out. I always do. I won't let bureaucracy of all things win against me – I'm Pokemon Trainer Red." I repeated the words, strengthening my resolve and drawing power from them.
"I'm Pokemon Trainer Red: I don't surrender."
))(())((
One by one, the neon signs came to life under the darkening sky, basking me in a sunken glory of artificial colors. No other lights could represent the offered product this exact as these glass tubes; the red, blue, and bright-pink spotlights reeked cheap and sleazy entertainment, and the signs put their promises of disappointing hopes in flashing words, words which were once worshiped as gods by the merchants of Celadon more than a thousand years ago. Here it was where the Unown supposedly first emerged in Kanto and taught humanity of written word, and here it was where humanity saw it best fit to keep track of their slaves' numbers and measure their piled gold.
No wonder the Unown had not been seen since.
I wandered aimlessly amidst the lively crowd. Had my spirits been higher, I could have remarked upon the workers of this street and their visitors; the women and men in all shapes and sizes dressed in tight, revealing clothes, catcalling and chatting up potential customers, particularly those dressed rich and well. Executives from many successful businesses had come down from their offices atop Saffron's high skyscrapers for a weekend getaway, and teenagers nervously grouped near the various brothels lined up one after another, excited for perhaps what would be a first-time experience for most.
Pikachu found it particularly hard to navigate this street, and I didn't blame him. The flashing lights were disturbing distractions, the reek of cheap liquor and human sweat abused his olfactory senses, and the blasting music forced his ears to a flattened position. The fact that he had seriously considered before refusing my pokeball suggestion showed how uncomfortable he truly was, but what could I really do? It wasn't like there was a quiet and calm hotel room we could return to; The Champion had seen to that.
I gritted my teeth in frustration, all my current problems had stemmed from the decisions he had made between Arsenal's attack and Paul's death. If I hadn't spent so much on luxury hotels and treatments for injuries of my own fault, Surge's reward money would still last for both a single night's room in Celadon and a journey to Saffron. With only limited cash, my entire plan had counted on a quick win from Erika, enough for me to feed the five new mouths I had added to the team and also for future resources and journeys, but now…
I'm stuck.
Waiting on Erika for five months was out of the picture and travelling further to Saffron was impossible, the wild between Celadon and Saffron was meek and didn't offer any resources me and my team could live off on. I could sell my newer recruits here for some easy money like I had sold the poochyena in Vermilion, but even if that trivial amount of money would help make the journey to Saffron, it wouldn't last the minimum three weeks long wait time of Saffron City Gym, a waiting time I had wished to avoid by challenging Erika's normally less full gym first.
I've been over all these points before, I thought grimly. The best way forward was the soonest win possible from Erika. Now, however…
I sighed. It looked like I would have to take up a short-term job, at least until I could make enough for a Saffron Gym Challenge.
And how long will that take? The Rival asked, impatient.
"Depends on the job. An escorting one would pretty much set us for good, but those last at least half a year long, more if it's a delivery from Kanto to Johto. The IPF, military, and RO don't do short term recruits, so the only job left for a trainer is… I don't know, a bodyguard? Bouncer? There might be some clubs in this city that have the need," I hopelessly rambled.
Every suggestion seems like it would take too much time not spent on training, The Rival dismissed my thoughts. We can't afford that – there's already less than two and a half years left for the championship, and we're still five badges short. Those won't do, Red. Find a better idea.
"…We can enter the local tournaments," I suggested. "Those pay smalltime, but maybe if we back it up with some illegal battling, entering some underground tournaments, maybe-"
Game.
"Watch it!" The woman I stumbled into warned, but in my hurry, I left her quickly behind.
"Was that you?" I asked The Rival, mesmerized.
What? His voice was puzzled.
"No, it's just, I-"
Suddenly, I surprised myself by taking a sharp turn. Cutting through the crowd as quick as possible, Pikachu barely caught up with me as I slipped through a narrow street between two brothels.
Chance.
A few minutes' walk later, I was lost in the back alleys of Celadon, but my legs were apparently quite familiar with these streets where the homeless and beggars made home. Further and further I strolled from Caledon's main square, and more and more shadier figures crossed my path, greedily eyeing my, well, my everything, my bag, jacket, belt, shirt… Here and there a few daring ones flashed the blade of a knife, but these crude weapons they could afford were of a bygone age, and Pikachu's crackling fur kept any attempters away – even these poor folks knew lightning beat steel.
Funds.
And so, as I walked, these people only huddled closer to each other and kept to the shadows, a long dead curiosity reignited in their milky eyes at why one of the "well off" as myself would delve this far into the best-kept-away-parts of town. The dealers and users scrammed as I approached, was I a cop, dressed so well in a jacket without any patches on? The beggars threw mixed gazes of hate and envy at Pikachu's body radiating with health, was I only here to show off how I could afford to take care of a pet when they were alone, disease ridden, and starving?
If only I had an answer, any answer to why I was here.
Spend.
I finally stopped.
My side trip had led me to a crooked door barely hanging to its hinges, above which read in gloomy red lights "Lucky Egg Casino". I took a step back to examine my surroundings; as far as I could tell, I had left the seedier streets behind and was now in a relatively cleaner neighborhood, one not as showy and flamboyant as the tourist attraction Celadon's main square was, but instead a local hangout for those with lesser income. A line of gambling houses dominated the sidewalk, the Lucky Egg was followed by the Bunnelby's Foot, Ekans Eyes, and Rapidash Shoe, a faint sound of music from these places barely audible from the street, but curiously enough, my attention always shifted back to the Lucky Egg.
I… I might as well… enter?
Before the thought was even finished I had stepped through that terribly unbalanced door. The smell of watered down alcohol and cheap cigarettes were the first to greet me, and the noise of rolling dice followed shortly after. The casino was surprisingly large, at one end were empty tables awaiting enough players for the cards to be dealt, at the other lines and lines of slot machines were spun by only a few elderly occupants. The lighting seemed a bit dull for a place of supposed enjoyment and risk, but otherwise, there really was nothing which distinguished the Lucky Egg from any other establishment of the sorts, which did nothing to explain the overwhelming need I had felt to enter this plac-
Glass shattered.
And thunder followed.
"Ugh!"
The flying slot machine missed barely, Pikachu's lightning had done good in disrupting my assaulter's aim. The panicked screams from behind warned me of another round: I threw myself on instinct as two of the machines flew hitting the wall across, one broke immediately while the other somehow got stuck.
But there was no time to study this phenomenon further, not when what I needed was cover.
From the ground, I clicked my tongue twice, and Pikachu sent bolt after bolt. Rapid and successive fire was my aim here, not damage, and an annoyed, deep grunt from behind encouraged me enough to make a run to the tables.
"IGNORE THE RAT AND HIT HIM YOU OAF, HIT HIM!"
That's a trainer. A trainer's attacking me, I thought the split second I was allowed as the sound of metal snapping echoed – another volley was afoot.
"Make him drop it!" I hissed through my breath and dove, sliding under the sturdy poker table in the nick of time. A roar of pain proved Pikachu's aim had been true, but the whizz of air assured it had not been enough. Wood and metal groaned; luckily, they held strong and the table did not break: Pikachu's attack had limited the force behind the throw, allowing me the time to crawl under and out to the other side, turn, and finally face the cowardly enemy launching its barrage only from behind.
The sight made me reconsider my initial notion of cowardly.
The monster could be mistaken for human, a very, very, very tall one; except humans did not have rock-hard, bluish gray skin.
Or a crown of three parallel steel ridges running from the top of its head to in between a pair of red eyes.
Or fucking four arms.
The superpower pokemon.
"Hit him!" A voice behind the lines of slot machines cried, and three of the muscular arms ripped another of the devices free from its fastened hold to the ground. The last remaining customers ran out in fear, and Pikachu, positioned midway between the fighting pokemon and myself, sent a new bolt, aiming to interrupt the projectile, but machamp were somewhat tough against elemental attacks; the electric surge rushed through the air, splintering and hitting the monster at multiple points, only for the rough hide to sizzle and burn lightly.
Undisturbed by the thunder, with a grunt the arms threw their load, and I answered in kind. The rectangular machine broke in half contacting the tough shell of Arsenal, and the machamp's disappointed cry met the wartortle's challenging roar.
"Back!" I ordered Pikachu quickly. Begrudgingly, he obeyed and circled widely around Arsenal back to me. He jumped up the poker table I had covered under, and with that, it was us who now held the advantage: Arsenal could tank any distance attack from the machamp, and if the fighting type came close, with the help of Pikachu's supportive fire, the wartortle could make an even fight.
However, there was one flaw in this team order, namely, Arsenal and Pikachu's hesitance with each other - and it showed. Though his feet were firmly planted in a defensive position up front, Arsenal's ears twitched nervously, as if he expected a treacherous strike from behind by Pikachu, and Pikachu's tail gleefully switching aim between him and the machamp didn't help reassure his doubts.
"Easy," I muttered towards my starter. "You don't cooperate, we die."
Clearing my throat, I then yelled across the other side of the room, to the yet invisible trainer. If possible, I would like to escape this situation without it coming to a potentially fatal fight.
"Are we done?"
No answer, except now the machamp stood still and kept his four arms open wide – completely blocking the exit, I noticed grimly.
"Because I don't know what sort of crazy you are," I shouted. "But I'm not looking for trouble. I'm willing to overlook this – just recall your machamp and keep it tucked until I leave these doors, and no one will speak of this again. If you don't though, I'm warning you," I threatened. "One way or another, I'm leaving. I would just rather not step over a dead machamp as I do."
A short silence followed, interrupted by a nervous voice. "You expect me to believe, you, Trainer Red, came here on coincidence?"
Finally, a response. And seemingly, the attacker knew me, and from his tone, I guessed battling me wasn't something he indulged in willingly. I can work with this, I thought.
"Arceus, I don't even know where here is," I confessed. "I'm just another tourist lost in this fucking city and was hoping for some directions, that's all."
"…We know you're a schemer and liar, Trainer Red," The voice shouted back, though it didn't seem that sure.
We? The Rival emerged, picking up on the detail. Who is we?
Not now; but keep listening. He might slip some more.
"In BATTLE, you moron, I'm a schemer and liar in battle, against gym leaders and such – not in real fucking life!" I tried convincing the voice while The Rival analyzed the situation. Sounds male, possibly late twenties or is early developed, maybe as young as twenty.
No response came, but I swore I could hear the sound of heavy breathing across the room accelerating.
"Look," I tried a new angle when the silence prolonged. "You obviously know me, but I don't know you, haven't even seen you…"
Machamp's very responsive: Its first attack came without a vocal command and is now guarding the exit without being told. Machop starter? Given the age of evolution, the trainer then should be about thirty to forty, unlikely to match the voice. No, not a starter. Just extremely well trained.
"If this was personal, we wouldn't be discussing this, you would be charging right now," I suggested. "But you're not, so that makes me guess you have another goal, one I'm not curious about. I have seen nothing and know nothing that can bring you future harm, but if we fight here, and if I get killed over it, well, that's going to bring the Celadon Police Force over when a few thrown slots in a casino would not – I came here from just scheduling a match at the gym, people will bound to be suspicious if I don't show up, and I left a lot of witnesses behind seeing me enter here…"
The last statement was an utter lie, but it seemed to work as the now seriously considering voice of my enemy asked, "You… will leave? Just like that?"
"Just like that, man. This was just a misunderstanding, nothing else." He really doesn't want to fight, The Rival deduced, or-
"It seems I acted… rashly." The sound of a pokeball clicking free from its belt was heard, and my hopes rose. "We recall both our mons the same time, then you leave. Deal?"
"Deal." I answered. "On three. One, two-"
Suddenly, with a terrible, terrible grinding sound, the previously stuck to the wall slot machine broke free, revealing the hidden staircase behind.
And I understood it was over.
"Ah," The voice said, disappointed. "You weren't supposed to see that. No one sees that. Boss' orders."
He stepped into my line of sight, and I groaned.
Tall, muscular, and blonde, he was wearing a red vest with the logo of the Lucky Egg, most likely a worker of the casino. But what struck me was the likeness he shared with the culprits behind Nolan's murder and the S.S. Anne, with the brothers Butch and Duke.
NO! We were done! The Rival screamed, frustrated. We were done with them!
Apparently, they're not done with us.
"Rocke-" I swallowed the end of my greeting when I noticed Arsenal's tail flicker: The last thing I needed was the wartortle going on a rampage at the word.
"You caused a lot of trouble, Trainer Red." His machamp stepped forwards with him, still completely blocking the exit, as he placed his hand near his pokebelt. My eyeballs bulged at the sight of a second pokeball.
"I'm happy you'll finally meet your end."
And after a bloodthirsty war cry, both machamp began charging.
"RUN!"
My pokemon growled disobediently - though the odds impossible, neither were the type to run from battle.
Maybe you weren't clear enough…
Then let me rephrase.
"We're not fleeing,you idiots!" I yelled as I zigzagged between the tables. "We're repositioning!"
After the confirmation, in a second, Pikachu was next to me, and with a deafening boom, Arsenal aqua-jetted his way through the tables, running just behind me in case the machamp reverted back to throwing again.
"CATCH THEM!" I heard behind me the rocket cry worriedly, but it was no use, machamp were just too slow, and with us being closer, they couldn't prevent us from reaching the staircase our pursuers had been so worried would remain secret.
I allowed Arsenal in first then followed, leaving Pikachu last. As I suspected, like the tower in Lavender, the walls were too narrow for any one of us to stand side by side, but that meant neither would the machamp be able to. In fact, I wasn't even sure if they would fit at all, but when I risked a look back I saw one of them just about to enter, arms bent at awkward angles, face contorted with fury.
Whatever is down here, they really don't want anyone to find out, The Rival muttered. Which reminds me, we don't know what's there either. Why are we going down again?
We could never win up there. I could release my full team and in the open space, the two machamp would rip us apart. Here their mobility is restricted – and it allows me to do this.
"Alright, enough," I whispered to Arsenal, and he stopped the water he had been secretly spraying on the walls and stairs as we passed them. I allowed a few steps' distance just to be sure we would be absolutely safe, then turned.
"Now."
Pikachu didn't send lightning – he simply stepped in the puddle left behind on the stairs.
And the smell of burning meat stank the air.
The change of tone in the roar of the machamp directly behind us was unbelievable, inhuman. Within seconds, the cry shifted from light pain to unending suffering and finally to pleading mercy, which of course, never came. Unlike pinpointed lightning, the electrical shocks were everywhere, never stopping, always present. The cramped setting did not allow the machamp's arms to avoid contact with the wet walls and escape their fate, as the planted feet now trembling could never remove themselves off ground. The fighting pokemon couldn't even drop dead, melted flesh had stuck to the walls leaving a corpse similar to a melting statue made of wax behind, a distorted expression of disturbing agony forever etched on the monster's face.
I briefly saw a pokeball's red light hitting the one behind – no doubt understanding the trap I had set, the rocket upstairs would not dare come after me. The smarter strategy would be to camp and wait upstairs, which would once again leave me out in the open, against an opponent with I didn't know how many strong mons hidden.
Looks like there's no place left to go but down, The Rival said, and hope there's another exit.
"Looks like it," I agreed and motioned my pokemon to move. "How… how are you taking all this? I know we wanted to drop this rocket chase behind but-"
Mew fucking dammit.
Arsenal had heard me.
The shell burst ahead at a speed impossible to catch. His bestial cunning had put the clues together: Upstairs, the man we had dealt with was a rocket. This was a rocket den. And so, the further we delved in, the more chance was there of encountering one.
This was his paradise. This was his vengeance.
Nothing could stop him.
"Mew dammit," I repeated, watching him disappear. "Mew fucking dammit."
Pikachu growled between my legs.
I stared at him crossly. "No, don't kill him – and yes, we have to follow him. In any case," I looked up, "it's not like we have another choice-"
Boom.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The sound of body clashing against body rose.
Looks like Arsenal found some targets, The Rival muttered.
Sighing, I rushed down the stairs, Pikachu just on my trail.
And on the final step, I slipped on blood and guts.
I didn't even stop Pikachu as he completely lost control and let loose a barrage of thunder, I was disturbingly mesmerized by the horror show in front of me.
The staircase had led to a small, well-lighted underground bunker, where on one side were caged pokemon piled up, mewling and crying out in fear. The other side was stacked with cash, heaps of bills and coins organized in huge bulks.
But it was the middle of the room which drew my attention.
"Yes, yes, just bring it here," The man muttered to himself undisturbed by Arsenal's constant pounding at the invisible shield separating the staircase from the room and Pikachu's thunder dissipating against it, and on his orders, a crouched, hunchback pokemon with a perpetual frown grasped at one of the cages. With a rattle, the pile collapsed on itself and the beasts within cried out in pain, but none louder than the skitty trapped in the one the barrier pokemon now dragged to the middle.
"Over here is fine," he muttered as he swept the counter in front of him clean, and my stomach twisted as I saw the carcasses dropping. The Mr. mime struggled lifting the cage up, then wiggled a finger, and suddenly the cage's door opened. The skitty mewled its first free cries - until the man cut off its head with a butcher's knife.
Arsenal's roars were only outclassed by the lightning Pikachu sent as the duo increased their attacks with newfound vigor against the barrier.
"Hurry, hurry." A surgical knife cut the skitty open as gloved hands operated within, digging out some organs and emptying them into the large suitcase placed under the counter. He paused for a moment to wipe the sweat on his forehead, leaving a bloody mark, and addressed the Mr. mime again, pushing the dead body off the counter to the floor, its still running blood adding to the large puddle.
"We can't waste any resources now, can we?"
And the hunchback Mr. mime walked back to the pile of cages - again.
"NO!"
This, this was too much, this butchery would not stand. Arsenal's pounding and Pikachu's lightning were shortly joined by the released Dante and Callidora's flames and vines. It had taken them less than a second to adjust, and at the sight all past animosities were put aside – no pokemon would allow this.
Neither would I.
"Aaaargh!"
With a cry, I too pushed against the barrier, giving it my all as the horrendous acts continued before me, as this, this monster cold-heartedly picked away at the pokemon brought forth. My punches bounced back when he cut off the cleffa's heart, Dante's flames licked helplessly when the groping fingers pulled out the igglypuff's tongue. Pikachu's lightning cracked like a whip while the nidoran was skinned alive, Arsenal bashed his head bloody while the unfamiliar to me pink, spherical pokemon's blood was drained.
But it wasn't until a power whip combined of eight vines hit and cracked the air in front of us that the butcher took notice.
"Oh, my." He rubbed his chin, his eyes lingering on the caged eevee. "Looks like time is up. Better get packing…"
He's about to get away! I raged inwardly when I saw him pick up his pokeballs. He's about to escape!
Let him.
The cold thought almost made my knees buckle.
Wha-
Let him! He's no concern of ours! The Rival repeated. This has nothing to do with us. Let's just focus on getting out, we're not the police or anything. Let him leave!
I blinked amidst the fire and thunder, unable to comprehend.
Renewing our fight with the rockets brings us nothing. It's one thing if it's self-defense, and another if we actively pursue. This carnage lessens us; recall our team, wait for the rockets to clear house, and then exit so we can decide on our next course of action, Saffron or somewhere else!
I-I, no one can allow this, this is-
"Well, Trainer Red!" The rocket interrupted my argument with The Rival, addressing me directly for the first time, the calm in his voice never wavering despite the number of cracks increasing - only a few minutes remained before the protective screen separating us broke.
"I cannot say it has been pleasant!" He yelled to make his voice overheard over the beasts' cries. "I'd much rather this place wasn't made! But, alas, good things cannot last forever…"
He sent a broken smile my way before he threw his pokeballs… before the barrier broke.
"Aresenal, NO!"
But consumed by his vengeance, poisoned by the thought of the rockets, he heeded my warning not as he burst into the bunker, jaw snapping, ready to behead his target.
Right in the middle of five electrodes.
"When they ask who sent you at the other side," He smiled and stepped into the released shiftry's shadow engulfing both the money and the case of harvested organs. "Be sure to give the name Proton."
With a crooked bow, he disappeared from sight.
And the electrodes detonated.
))(())((
"Mister? Sir?"
I'm alive?
"Mister, sir, can you hear me?"
I'm alive…
"Sir, it's urgent you hear me, sir, before the coppers show, please sir…"
I'm alive!
…How?
"I don't know," the voice answered, and I realized I had asked the question aloud. "I don't know, but you can hear me, yes, sir?"
"I-I, I, yes," I muttered. Everything was slowly coming back, the explosion, the brief millisecond I had to encase those closest to me. Dante and Callidora I had captured in the ball, of that I was certain, and Pikachu I too remembered, but Arsenal…
Arsenal. And the collapsing stone and brick, dust enough to choke a salamence, buried under concrete, but yet…
Yet never feeling the crushing pressure. Never feeling the bones snap and organs burst.
Only the lack of air, in that limited, closed space, in that tomb of debris, I had-
Cold.
I abruptly stood up, shivering.
"Where am I?"
My question was answered by the soft crackling of a fire ongoing, police sirens, and the chatter of people. I peeked from the alley I had somehow been dragged to at the burning lines of casinos and gaping chasm where the Lucky Egg once stood.
"Impossible," I muttered to myself, examining my body. Not a wound was to be seen, not a single bruise was visible, nothing but the sensation I had been dipped into the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean, a cold wetness I had trouble shaking myself from. "How?"
"As I said, I do not know…"
I turned to face the answering voice: A toothless elder, a homeless, clothed in filth.
"I was only told to give you this, mister." He trembled as he spoke. "And tell you, mister, that you earned it."
And he handed me a shining metal token, shaped a flower with all the existing colors as its petals.
How quickly my rage warmed me.
How quickly the elder ran when I released my monsters, Pikachu, Callidora, and Dante; the first almost crazed once again by his entrapment.
But today, I would not have it.
Today, my anger would overshadow his discomfort.
Today, the trainer's requests take precedence.
"Are you fit for battle?" I spat, dropping the object in my hands to the streets of Celadon.
Like me, they had no wounds. Risking further luck, I clicked on Arsenal's pokeball, hoping against hope, daring my fate.
But of course, reality prevailed, as it always did, and the click revealed nothing, the red light materialized into nothing.
A silence followed as my eyes fixed on the abyss where the Lucky Egg once was.
She will pay.
"She will," I agreed, stepping on the Rainbow Badge. "She will."
))(())((
Author's Note:
Some questions, some lore, and major buildup. Just gonna add the next chapter will be up very very soon since I wrote these two together. By now you all probably know I suck at estimates, but I think an update by the weekend is quite possible.
Also, wow, one year has passed since I began The Summit. About a 190k words in a time of 374 days, and I'm still as passionate about this project since Day 1: All thanks to you.
I know the story of Red and Blue has been told dozens. I know our beloved gen1 protagonists pale in the light of some incredible original and newer-gen main characters. I know Kanto and Johto has grown tiring when Kalos and Alola and all sorts of new regions are ever emerging, and I know my more realistic approach to these worlds has been done plenty by far more talented fanfic authors than myself. I know this fic isn't the top story in its genre, but you know what? The story isn't, but you readers are certainly the number one fans in my eyes.
Thank you, really, for sticking with me so far. Thank you for all those who gave this slow-burn, goofy-cartoon-cover pictured (I swear there's a story behind that cover!), and generically summarized fic a chance. Thank you for the respectful and insightful commentary dropped – I've tried replying to them all, and if I've missed some, do accept here my public apology.
I can't promise you'll keep enjoying the story. I can promise this fic will NEVER be discontinued (excluding life endangering circumstances of course, lol).
Here's to another year, when hopefully, if my timetable holds, The Summit will be finished.
Cheers, and thank you.